Asthmatic Sammy Attempts a Musical
by orcslayer95
Summary: the title pretty much says it all :)


Dean had tried to talk him out of doing the musical. He really had. But really his arguments were half-hearted because of how proud Sammy made him. He had gotten the lead role and had tried to hide his excitement from Dean, not knowing how he would react and slightly embarrassed. He knew Dean wasn't overly fond of musicals. But Dean finally forced it out of him. He was surprised when Dean suddenly started grinning and pulled him into a crushing hug.

"I'm so proud of you, Sammy."

And Sam allowed himself to be excited and started grinning ear to ear.

But then Dean said, "I can't let you do this. Singing for 2 hours, your weak lungs can't take that kind of strain. Especially after last week."

"Dean I'll be fine."

"Sam I have to watch out for you. What happens if you pass out on stage, huh?"

"Dean please stop controlling my life. I can make my own decisions. Look I have rehearsal tomorrow. If I can't get through it, I'll quit, okay?"

He of course didn't tell Dean that rehearsals were pure torture. To make things worse he was in practically every scene, which left little time to take a puff from his inhaler or drink some boiling hot coffee. After a particularly long note he felt lightheaded and had to sit down. When his fellow actors asked what was wrong, he said, "Nothing, I'm fine."

When he got home Dean looked at him suspiciously but didn't say anything, just pulled him into his arms, rubbing his back soothingly.

Opening night he hadn't failed to notice how proud his brother looked in the first row and something clenched in his chest.

He'd gotten through the first act with minimal wheezing, his chest tightening on the long high notes. He tried not to glance at Dean sitting proudly in the front row. He could see the significant bulge in his pants and smiled to himself.

Halfway through the second act Sam was thinking maybe this wasn't such a good idea. He couldn't breathe. He wheezed his way through his lines. He could see Dean's concerned face in his peripheral vision. When he couldn't get out his next lines, Jeremy stared at him strangely.

"You okay?" He mouthed and Sam just nodded, embarrassed. When the scene change came he stumbled into the back, frantically pulling his inhaler out of his pocket and took two deep puffs. Then he took a long drink from the flask of strong black coffee Dean had so lovingly prepared for him.

"Sam you're on in 3…2…1," some annoying Asian girl said.

Sam took as deep a breath as he could and staggered onto the stage, forcing a smile onto his face.

Poor little Sammy tried so hard to get through the second act without screwing up. He really did. Unfortunately he failed.

He was singing Carry on my Wayward Son when he broke off the note and started gasping for breath. Confused and concerned faces from the audience stared at him. He tried to get his breathing under control but failed miserably. It just wasn't Sam's day. He should've listened to Dean. He didn't need to fucking prove himself all the time. He was embarrassing himself in front of hundreds of people and more worryingly he really couldn't breathe.

He looked at Dean's worried face, the way he had risen halfway out of his seat already. "Just breathe," he mouthed at him and Sam wanted to say back "That's the fucking problem, I can't," but the didn't have enough breath to do even that.

His hands clenched around the inhaler in his pocket. He was pretty sure everyone in the audience could hear his wheezing.

The show must go on, he told himself. He could still salvage this. If his chest wouldn't be so damn tight.

The fight scene was next. Fuck. He was slammed down roughly onto his back and the air left his weakened lungs in a whoosh. He could feel his airways tightening more, finally closing up and he started to panic.

Dean recognized the look of absolute terror in his baby brother's eyes and quickly got up, dashing backstage and pulling the curtains closed. He ran onto the stage. People had gathered around Sam and he pushed them roughly out of the way. He pushed one Asian kid so hard, his skull cracked on the prop tree and he lay unconscious in a puddle of blood.

"Sam!"

Sam's eyes were wide and his fists clenched in Dean's shirt.

"Can't..." he wheezed. His voice was a pathetic croak.

Dean pulled Sam into a sitting position and rested his back against his chest. Then he pulled out Sam's emergency inhaler from his boot and made Sam suck on that while he pulled out a portable nebulizer he always kept on him for emergencies (which occurred very frequently) from his back pocket.

Sam's eyes fluttered. He was dropping in and out of consciousness. Dean pressed the mask over Sam's nose and mouth.

"Should we call an ambulance?" A girl asked.

"No, no, he has asthma, it happens all the time. He'll be fine, just back the fuck up." Dean told her roughly and she ran away.

"Sam, come on, stay with me," he said, rubbing small circles on his back. "Don't make me take you to the ER for the third time this week." He slapped his brother's smooth cheek lightly.

Several long minutes later Sam's eyes focused on Dean's. His breathing was better and his lips were no longer blue. He lifted a shaking hand and pulled the mask down.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, a tear escaping down his nose, disappearing between his luscious lips.

"What for, buddy?" Dean pushed a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Doing the musical. It was stupid. You were right." He was so embarrassed, he couldn't meet Dean's eyes. There were still a few people standing around staring at him, but Dean had scared most of them away.

"Don't worry about it," said Dean, scooping his little brother up in his muscularly thick arms and carrying him to the car.


End file.
